


Ad Astra

by Anonymississippi



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: 999 ways to avoid a dumb finale repeat, Catastaphe, Crack and Meta, Gen, Season Two Salt, here's one, hints of the best of crack ships, mention of Kara flailing over Lena's safety, oh yeah I went there, resist 2x21 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 09:21:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10918932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymississippi/pseuds/Anonymississippi
Summary: They called her the Daxamite Destroyer, Arclominian of the First Order, and Brigadier General of the Soldiers of the Bastion Range. Yes, General Astra returns from the dead and puts a stop to the invasion, giving her darling niece some food for thought.





	Ad Astra

**Author's Note:**

> You think this is a poetic Latin title that will lead to a stunning character analysis of my favorite complex Supergirl antagonist? No. It's a command, and utter crack. And such bitterness over this season. Add Astra. Just... please.
> 
> tw for shooting daxamites and killing queen rhea like she needs to be killed to move this bumbling plot along

“You’ll never get away with this, Rhea!” Kara shouted from the floor, coughing and sputtering as Kal-El moved closer, his eyes glazed and vacant from some unnamable mind-controlling power.

“I’ve subdued the most powerful being on this planet,” Rhea cackled, eyes tracking Superman’s movements toward Kara, his great, lumbering steps, his dead pupils, his unbridled power. “He will be rid of you and there’s nothing to stop me from overwhelming your people and liberating this planet from humanity’s stupidity.”

“She is the true heir to the House of El,” a voice said from the shadows. “And you shall not discredit her in such a fashion.”

It took milliseconds for the disembodied voice to swoop round the interior of the ship’s inner sanctum; the Daxamite soldiers lay bleeding and wheezing, blood pooling from carefully delivered kill shots to the jugular, right at the junction of their armor. Their battling staffs rolled in heaps at their feet, blinking uselessly. The blur finally paused in front of Queen Rhea’s mainframe and proceeded to disable it; a swirls of limbs flew across the interface, Daxamite symbols floating through the air and then snatched just as hastily, rotated, transfigured, until the sigils faded and the projector twisted, casting Kryptonese glyphs in a holographic column about the interface, shrouding the hooded warrior in black.

“What—what have you done?!” Rhea screeched, brushing past Superman, stalled mid-step in his pursuit of Kara. “What has—how have you disarmed the shields?!”

“The same way I did upon infiltrating the Sorrow Cult, you xenophobic wench.”

“The Sor—no, you—you’re dead! The Daxamite Destroyer could not… could never…” Rhea grew pale, paler even than Lena, Kara noted, (not that Kara had been paying particular attention to Lena’s décolletage—uh, skin).

“Daxamite Destroyer,” the voice hummed. “It has been some time since the universe added that title to the rather long list of my identifiers.”

“The humans _killed_ you! I made certain of it before coming—”

The woman let loose a brilliant laugh, short, discrediting, before continuing. “Your people have always cowered before me, and yet, the humans did what you never could, Rhea,” the figure in mangled black robes waltzed down from the dias with her gun in hand, her hood falling to reveal a torrent of dark curls, and one obstinate, shimmering white streak—a shooting star in a sky full of black. “Then again, I have found my way back. Perhaps no one was ever meant to kill me.”

“Aunt Astra?!”

“We do have to stop meeting like this, Little One.” Astra’s smile was menacing and glorious, her stare geared toward a quivering Rhea, who suddenly looked like an overdressed drag queen from a 1992 sci-fi B-movie who had unfortunately lost control of her bowels.

“What h-have you d-done to Kal-El?” Rhea murmured, lower jaw quivering as she fought the uncontrollable twitch overtaking the side of her face. With the regal alien get-up, the nervous tic, and the stilted speech, Kara was certain Earth’s true Queen was about to emerge from the shadows and bid Rhea to _sashay away_.

“I programmed Myriad, Rhea the Reprobate. Did you think I would not recognize it here, again? I literally controlled Superman’s mind last season—uh, year, with this same plot point—uh, device.”

“You disarmed the shields,” Rhea squeaked. “We—we are allergic to lead!”

“Which is why invading Earth was a frankly _idiotic_ plan, given their primary ammunition. Although, Daxamites have never been the smartest of species. When you lost the Science War and closed your planet off to the rest of the galaxies, you disavowed _true_ science, and progress, and wisdom. You are worthless as you have ever been, and you will not harm Kara.”

“I think it’s time I talk her down, Aunt Astra—which, how… are… you, uh, here again?” Kara asked, crawling up to her knees, ignoring Clark, who, was merely there as  eye-candy since Astra seemed to be swooping in to fix this senseless clusterfuck of an invasion.

“My corpse has been left adrift in a universe with a brilliant, healthy yellow sun,” Astra said, as if this were common information that anyone who knew even the remotest bit about Kryptonian physiology should also know. “The true surprise is that it took this long for a Kryptonian to return, and now…” Astra smirked again, stretched her fingers to their fullest extent, and then balled her hands into fists. “I’m more powerful than ever.”

“Have mercy, Destroyer,” Rhea wailed, falling to her knees at Astra’s feet.

“That still doesn’t explain how you got out of the space coffin—”

“Hush now, Little One, your aunt is working,” Astra said. “Disgraced Rhea, usurper and murderer, slave-trader, manipulator, fashionable more in the clothes of the people you intend to destroy than those of your native land—do you surrender to the authorities of this planet?”

“I ask only for your mercy, Destroyer, not that of the miscreants who would—”

Rhea was unable to say just what the miscreant humans would do, because Astra quickly reached forward and snapped her neck with a clock-wise flick of the wrists.

“There we are,” she grinned, releasing Rhea's lifeless body. It crumpled to the floor in a crunch of tackily-clad Daxamite clothing as Astra turned on her heel and moved back toward the interface. With a few presses against glowing Kryptonese glyphs, Kal-El pivoted toward the wall, took his stance, and then burst out of the window, flying against the head-wind in a north-easterly direction.

“Where is he—”

“Back to Metropolis, and to his ten-season long series and film franchise. It’s your turn to shine, my darling.”

“Uh… thanks?” Kara said, staggering back to her feet, taking in the puddles of Daxamite bodies scattered dead around her. “You didn’t like, let me do anything though?”

“You haven’t been doing anything all season, Kara,” Astra said, pressing once more all over the interface, casually continuing as explosions shook the rest of the ship. “I’m helping you start fresh.”

“Is… is that the—”

“The Daxamite fleet? Yes, of course,” Astra continued powering the photon rays, obliterating the remaining Daxamite attack ships. “They will flee, eventually, and will become the refugees that they hated so on their own planet. What is the human phrase? Comeuppance?”

“I don’t think anyone on this planet would ever use a word like that… well, maybe Ms. Grant,” Kara conceded. “She’s been doing a lot of quipping and speech-inspiring in a very short 42 minutes—”

“Ah yes, your Media _Queen_ ,” Astra continued, removing the Kryptonian burial cape, left in shredded pieces of black robe that made her look far less merciless than Lilian Luther, even. “I quite like her tenacity. I will go and partner with her.”

“Wha—what do you mean, partner?”

“Rhea was not incorrect, Kara,” Astra advised her, placing a knowing hand upon her shoulder. “Your planet gave rise to entitlement, and the type of people who followed your journey this year and believed it was truly beneficial to you.”

“You haven’t even been here!”

“If I had been, things would have been far more interesting,” Astra said with a wink. “Alas, I will leave you to your sad Daxamite lover and his horrid lead allergy. Bullets have been flying all over the city, it is a wonder he is not dead yet.”

“…is he dead? Is—wait, is he with Lena?! Is Lena okay!?!? Astra, I—they were supposed to go back to the Fortress of Solitude, if I hurry, I can make sure she’s alright—”

“Yes, you do that,” Astra shooed Kara off toward the window Kal-El had burst through. “I will be with your media queen. She is fond of these hopeful broadcasts during global tragedies, just like last season—uh, year, when Non was threatening you as well and not me—which, would have made for some interesting character growth for the both of us, wouldn’t you say?”

“I just need to know if Lena is alright!” Kara sputtered, turning once more from the window. “You didn’t do anything to her, did you?”

“Of course not, Little One. I had the chance to snap your sister’s neck, as I did Rhea the Repulsive’s. I merely tried to embrace her instead, but she rejected me.”

“Wait—what?”

“She has her mate now, so I will seek out the media queen instead,” Astra said. “Go to your love, Kara. Leave the Daxamites to me.”

“Are… are you sure? Is there… uhm, anything I can do to help?”

“Well, once you arrive at the Fortress, please send Lilian Luther our way. I think she is far more caring that you give her credit for, Kara. She loves Lena much in the same way that I love you. Again, almost as if last season—uh, year, is repeating itself.”

“Why would you want to talk to her? She hates aliens.”

“She’ll put aside her pettiness to reach a common goal—compromise, what your media queen advocated for. Wouldn’t it be interesting, Kara, the three of us together? The challenges we could overcome, the problems we could solve—”

“But—what about Supergirl?” Kara asked, distressed and frustrated, realizing for the first time in months that she has been having protagonist issues.

“I believe that’s the question we’ve all been asking for a while now,” Astra conceded. “If it took dragging me through space on the bump-draft of a Daxamite invasion to talk some sense into you, then maybe you’ll have better luck next season—uh, year.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Kara nodded. “Thank you, Aunt Astra.”

“Of course, Kara,” Astra said, taking her niece into her arms, finally giving her the hug they both deserved.

“Now, go fetch Lilian. I’m eager to see what will happen if she and I are in a room together. Though, we are both over 35 sun cycles, therefore your world might not allow it.”

“What?”

“What? Never mind, Kara. The battle is done. It took sparse words and a lot less special effects than is customary, but that is the mark of a true warrior.” Astra approached the window and took a large breath of the National City night. “You can still hear the Daxamites screaming,” she said gleefully, floating ever so slightly over the ledge. “I’m off to woo Catherine Grant. Bring us Lilian Luther. Imagine the possibilities, Kara.”

Astra floated away on the breeze and left Kara in a hovering ship full of dead Daxamites. She eventually departed when Alex started screeching in her ear about how Cyborg Superman went rogue and accidentally knocked Mon-El senseless. The unfortunate result was a lead-induced coma, Mon-El likely never to wake again; but Lilian kept Lena safe. Lilian Luther. The true hero of the invasion.

Kara rocketed south toward colder waters, thankful to be heading into a new season—uh, year, with higher expectations.

**Author's Note:**

> yall i'm so salty over season two i needed to vent-write but it doesn't really matter since we're basically getting the same season finale as last year :/ unbeta'd rage writing sry not sry
> 
> thank god Cat and Lilian were there to make it interesting. Catherine x Winslow BroTP 5evaaaaa


End file.
